


Only Waiting

by 994527



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/994527/pseuds/994527
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They’d drifted together, clung onto each other, and then drifted back to far enough apart to still have each other just enough. And that last night, when it had been another unspoken truth, <i>this is going to be the last time we do this</i>, for forever or for a long time didn’t matter then, because the desperation of it had made the two options seem the same. <i>But now, it’s like we were only waiting.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Que nervios.. ;) first time football one shot! I hope you like it.
> 
> Thank you/damn you to the person who is to blame for this ;) ♥
> 
> Enjoy...

_It was true, what you said. It was still easy to be friends in different countries. It just wasn’t easy to not be more. Or maybe it was too easy._ He takes another sip of the beer, trying to calm his thoughts into something more coherent; in a few ways trying to keep himself stood there, trying to stop himself jumping off the balcony into the pool below and swimming off into the lights of the city, or turning back to the door and picking up his bag and leaving. Because meeting as friends, laughing as friends, playing as friends, everything with that extra bit of space they’d been forced into by circumstance? That was enough to give him butterflies, but not enough to make him scared. Because the barrier was the protection he’d needed for himself, knowing, absolutely, that it _couldn’t_ be what it was before, because it wouldn’t work. _And then you came home._

Another sip, another nervous breath as he looks back inside to check the time glowing at him from inside the dark hotel room. _Soon._ They hadn’t even really talked about it. It had started, all those years ago, and then it had been forced to stop. They hadn’t talked about that either. They’d drifted together, clung onto each other, and then drifted back to far enough apart to still have each other just enough. And that last night, when it had been another unspoken truth, _this is going to be the last time we do this_ , for forever or for a long time didn’t matter then, because the desperation of it had made the two options seem the same. _But now, it’s like we were only waiting._

The sound of the door opening sounds like gunfire. It brings back the first time it had – another unspoken truth, a moment where no words had been needed to agree a place and time, both knowing what it meant that they’d chosen a hotel, both knowing what they were going there to do. Not talk, not ‘get a break’, not order room service and forget about the world for a while. Never that, just like now. It’s not like they couldn’t have visited each other at home. _Except that at ‘home’, we wouldn’t be as free as we are now._ He doesn’t turn round straight away, lets Fernando walk into the room and hears him close the door behind him, sound making Sergio cock his head slightly as his compatriot turns the light on and then stands still in the room. Sergio feels the flush of light from the room hit his back and light him up, and that seems like the cue he needs to turn, fully, and feel his breath catch slightly at the man stood in front of him.

“Hi.”

The older player’s mouth curls into the tiniest smile, more of it expressed in his eyes than on his face, and lets it grow and grow until he’s beaming at him and nodding. “Hi.” _After all this time, you start with ‘hi’._

He looks different, they both do. And of course it’s not like any real time has passed since they saw each other; they’ve seen each other all year and every other before it. It’s just that now, when the reason has changed, it’s like flicking the switch back on, all the subtle differences that betray the passage of time laid bare all at once now they’re allowed to press play again and unpause. Their eyes are allowed to wander, allowed to scour their territory for every line that wasn’t there before, rediscover freckles and little scars, take each other in; allowed to get that same spark back that they’d done a painfully good job at extinguishing, however temporarily. He realises, they both do, that they’ve been stood there a long time by now, just looking. Even the clothes are different. More expensive, better put together, flashes of tattoo just visible up the ends of sleeves. _But nothing’s too different, because here we are._ “Welcome back.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Just a few years…” They both into another smile before Fernando shrugs himself out of his jacket, putting it over the back of the chair, shivering at the gust of cold air from the Madrid night that sneaks through the open balcony door before Sergio closes it, now closed in together, moving together until they’re stood inches in front of each other, before finally the younger player closes that final gap and presses their lips together. Chaste, simple, just the gesture, before he winds his arms round Fernando’s waist and they melt together, taking everything in again, slow and deliberate, no rush. No desperation now, knowing they have time and they will have time and this is the first of something rather than any kind of last.

It was too late to escape, he already knew, the first time they ever did this. When the hands had been fumbling and everything had been a breathless mess dancing drunkenly across the hotel room to the bed, both shocked in some ways but not in the most important, listening and concentrating to the noises they were each making, no idea then of everything they knew now, everything the other liked and wanted, what was too far and what wasn’t far enough, who did what and how quickly. But now, there’s a calm sea of knowledge underneath everything of exactly how it’s going to be. And they want to get there, but as you get older and you get maybe a little wiser, certainly one of them, Fernando thinks with a slight smile into his sometimes-teammate’s neck, the rush and the hurry evaporate and leave the warm up as important as the match, the little touches and details of now, the way his scent seems to start from his nose and fire through him, the way his skin shivers both under and free from the fabric of his shirt, the way the stubble scratches him just enough; those things are just as important as the next ones. They both seem to realise that, standing there for a while, before they move apart enough for eye contact and both get caught in the expressions on their faces, again, leaving it another few seconds before Fernando presses their lips together again, new intent signalled as his tongue run across his compatriot’s lip in a silent question, answered immediately as his mouth opens and lets him in, the bitter taste of beer swirling around the harsh mint of the older player’s mouth, but yet still the same taste as expected, the same game of exploration as it had been before, now slowly on its way to the bed as their hands and fingertips dig in and under the fabric to find the cool skin underneath.

“I missed you.” He brushes the words over the younger man’s mouth with gentle lips as his t shirt is pulled off, answer lost in another, deeper kiss as he’s pushed into the bed, but able to decipher the agreement and read the extra between the lines as their heads move with a nod; more behind it now, not more feeling, but certainly more need as they feel each other’s arousal through the diminishing layers of clothing, until finally they’re naked and gasping for the air that got stolen somewhere along the way.

 _God I missed you._ The older player runs his fingers through Sergio’s hair as he starts to crawl down, tongue flicking over the skin of his chest and the odd word hummed into his skin through a kiss, before the grip gets tighter, more difficult nowadays with less hair there to grab onto, for both, as the younger player’s breath sears across his navel and follows the natural path laid out before him. And Fernando smiles, then, for the first time since they’d spent too long staring when he’d walked in, everything suddenly sinking in and releasing the tension he’d not been aware of in a gentle laugh towards the ceiling, that making Sergio’s mouth pause and head raise to look at him, slightly amused and puzzled, eyes searching for the reason he wants to hear as to why this is slightly funny. He gets the confirmation in the warm, almost disbelieving smile that he starts to mirror, relief and release hitting him a split second after and joining in, eyes closing briefly as the fingers in his hair gently brush though it again, cupping his face to share a little telepathic moment of _you know what I mean_ before he finally gives in and collapses back into the sheets as the tongue flicks out again, teasing, rolling around his tip and releasing a soft _fuuuck_ into the air around them. His fingers clench in the sheets as he’s swallowed whole, feeling deliciously familiar in his memory but still new and exciting enough after this long to make him quake slightly in place, biting his lip to stop the noise spilling from him, before he gives in again, _like always_ , and lets a long moan hit the ceiling as Sergio pulls back and wraps his hand around him, practiced enough to build the pressure and pleasure like it’s a pyramid, adding more of everything slowly until he looks up at the writhing mess in front of him and moves back up to share the kiss again, judged perfectly, his own hardness now almost painful, signal all the striker needs to turn them over and pin him down, starting his own re-exploration of the skin laid out for him, fingers tracing tattoos and tongue leaving a trail of moisture that flashes cool in the air of the room. He teases him for a few seconds, saliva coating him enough for another string of expletives to echo between them, before tracing his fingers between his legs and feeling the reaction zing through them, repeating it again with lube until he’s teasing him open and watching the defender’s face flush and shine with sweat, hair ruffled and some stuck to his forehead, coming undone in a way that, Fernando knows, he probably hasn’t done with anyone else, and hopes now never will. Because this is it, they both seem aware; regardless of girlfriends or wives or kids, this is it. Those things aren’t changeable and they both accept that. But the others – the guys he’s sure they’ve both ended up in bed with once they weren’t in bed with each other – they’re a thing of the past. It’s not a normal definition of faithful, but it’s the best they’ll manage in the circumstances, and it’s enough because of _this._ Because of the sure knowledge that this is the truth, and it’s the truth shared with the one person who knows it and gives themselves up to it completely. _And that’s enough. You’re enough. More than._

He pushes inside with enough restraint for them to end up forehead to forehead, paused to breathe each other in for a second, letting themselves take it in and both smiling with closed eyes until their tongues meet again and he starts to move, moans getting louder, stubble grazing his chin and fingertip bruises starting to litter his hips, pulling him in and guiding the rhythm until it clicks and Sergio’s hands run over his back, one pulling him flush to him, the other running up through his hair and slowing the more desperate kiss enough for both to recognise the copper taste of blood. Fernando’s hips are now the only thing really moving, for a while, finding that spot and feeling the shudder of pleasure roll through the other player, trapped to him, matched by the sting of his fingers digging in again, moving down again, then freeing him enough for them to lock eyes with each other for a moment before he dives for another kiss, using the new freedom of movement to thrust deeper, feeling the warmth pool in his groin and knowing, even before the word _close_ whispers into his ear, that the other man is feeling the same, intensity increasing again as he wraps his fingers around the younger player's cock and pulls him over the edge, feeling the hot stickiness spurt between them, both shuddering and groaning as he follows and thrusts once more, noise catching in both their throats as they ride it out, the intense explosion of pleasure rolling between them before they collapse together, gasping for air.

He stays there a while, letting the defender trace patterns on his back with his fingers as they both come back to the world, strung out and relaxed and sensitive, until they end up in another kiss after he pulls out, this one no kind of prelude, just sharing the experience and communicating the last little things he knows they need to before they go to sleep. Because tonight, they go to sleep. No one leaves with a quick regretful glance behind, no one wakes up to an apologetic note, and no one has breakfast alone. 

“You know…” He turns his head back to look at him again, the striker now laid out naked in the sheet next to him, and smiles. “I don’t think we even ever said it.” 

Sergio holds the eye contact, devilish spark back in his eyes for a second, before it changes back into that same glow of affection as he leans down from where he’s propped on his elbow and nibbles a line over his lover’s shoulder. “Not sure what you mean…”

“Sure.” The striker smiles into the sheets for a second, burying the strangely sudden blush that’s flushed his cheeks, and then lifts his head again to look back, same nervous smile on the defender’s face. “I’m sure…”

“Good.” He nods, gulping down the sudden flash of emotion, and then lies back down next to him and pulls them together, nose to nose across the pillow. “I’m very sure.”

“And what…can I ask…” He pulls his lip between his teeth and lets his fingers wander over his spine. “Are you sure of?”

“Well, you know.” The younger player closes his eyes and half shrugs at him, smiling again as he feels Fernando’s nose rub the end of his ever-so-slightly, before taking a metaphorical deep breath and saying it, eyes opening just in time to see the spark flash in the other players’. “I love you…”

“Ah, ok.” The blonde smiles to himself and at the blush in front of him, before moving on top of him again and pinning his hands to the bed, fingers laced together, eyes locked together, everything together. “That’s good, because I love you too.”

_Like we were only waiting._


End file.
